


Voices on a Broken Record

by donned_a_mummer



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Eccomiah, F/M, WildeProxy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donned_a_mummer/pseuds/donned_a_mummer
Summary: Ecco had begun her life living and growing up at Haly's Circus, until an event drives her away. After facing heartbreaking tragedies, Ecco meets Jeremiah, who had been a childhood friend of hers in the circus. Their friendship rekindles gradually and they grow fond of one another, sticking with one another no matter what. (I added in an original character, Ecco's sister, to include a little more struggle for Ecco as a character and give a little more reason to her drive to insanity, which we'll see develop in later chapters. Also, I made Ecco's birth name Isabella, in reference to the character she was likely based off of in the comic "No Man's Land". Other than that, hope you enjoy and comments/kudos are always appreciated <3)





	1. Prologue

Isabelle’s head hung back and a roar of giggles hysterically escaped as she ran through the grass. Dew stuck to her legs as she made desperate attempt to stay out of her sister’s grasp. Having been board, the two girls decided to play out in the nearby field for a game of tag. The sky was a brightened stone gray. It was the only tone the city ever seemed to shine of among the misty streets. She never really understood what gave Gotham City it’s unsettling feel. Maybe it was the people? Gothamites seemed too grim and hallow. She couldn’t imagine what brought a person to live here. Even with a short time of the circus being in town, she grew weary of the place and came almost to fearing it. There were certainly better places to live.   


Traveling with the circus allowed her to see the wonders of other places outside the despair of this particular city. There were mountains painted on the earthly landscapes, the sun shone brightly, the stars danced in the skies, and the people were cheerful. In the other places, people wore smiles. In Gotham, there was little of such. Only in short moments had the people taken a pleasant grin to their faces out of pure joy. Isabelle’s child mind never understood why people masked fake smiles. It had been more favorable to be around smiling people, but to her, they didn’t have to pretend. They could be who they were. No false faces.    


She let her legs carry her, further and further. The billowing smoke from the factories had drawn her attention. It was yet another brutal face to overwhelm the city in a gloomy dread. Her gaze drifts from the cloudy grey smoke and takes off running to the culmination of trailers which housed fellow circus folk. She continues to laugh, taken over by the excitement of the moment. Her sister follows closely behind, little legs picking up the pace.    


“You’ll never catch me Emily! I’m too fast for you!” She yelled out in a tease.    


“Come on Izzy. You know I can’t keep up!” Emily complained while trying to reach her sister, shorter legs carrying her along.   


Isabelle ducked behind a few trailers in attempt to hide while she recovered from her exhausted breath. The crunch of dirt and dead grass reach closer. Slow breaths whistle through her nose. She willed her muscles not to move. Hopefully, Emily wouldn’t find her huddled behind the twins’ trailer.    


There was a crunch of grass, trotting one step louder each second. The metal of the trailer creaked behind her shoulder blades. Isabelle winced at the noise, but it still hadn’t been loud enough for Emily to hear. On queue, much to Isabelle’s surprise, Emily jumped out yelling, “Found you!,” with a cocky grin on her face.   


Her brows are drawn together in question, “How’d you find me? I was quiet...mostly.”   


“Because you always hide there,” She spoke with the roll of her eyes.    


“I do not. Last time I was by the ferris wheel and before that I was behind Mister Cicero’s tent,” She claimed, crossing her arms in protest. There were certainly more places she could list off to prove her point.   


Emily piped up, “Hey, we should see if the boys want to play.”   


Isabelle shrugged with a slump in her shoulders, “Sure. We’re already here anyways.”   


Emily stepped up to the door, knocking with just enough force for the noise to be noticed. The metal creaked under the weight of the girl’s mild banging. There was shuffling inside, then whispers. Seconds passed and no one inside seemed to make move to the door.   


Emily looked to her with a shrug, “Maybe they don’t want to play today.”   


Isabelle was going to offer a response but before she could, the door was pulled open with a young ginger boy standing in the threshold. Jerome greeted them with a huge grin. The pull at his cheeks was forced on his face, but one wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his real smile and fake one. Isabelle never really got along much with Jerome, but at least he and her sister were practically best friends, so Emily was occupied enough when Isabelle didn’t want to do much.    


Jerome piped up, “Hey. I haven’t seen you guys in a while.” His eyes brighten a little with a spark of excitement, eyes flickering between the two girls, “You want to play something?”   


Emily replies with a smile to mirror his, “Sure do. That’s why we came here.”    


Jerome yells to the back of the trailer, at someone who can’t be seen. “Hey Jeremiah, you want to play a game?”   


An unclear voice can be heard in the background, unable to discern the words being spoken. There’s shuffling inside and the voice begins to grow louder and more clear. Jeremiah, appears through the doorway, face shown in the light from the dim lighting inside the trailer. 

“Jerome if it’s another mean game of yours, I don’t want to play. Last time I did, I almost broke my arm,” Jeremiah spat out, pulling a uncomfortable memory from his mind. He turned from his twin brother, realizing Isabelle and Emily have been standing outside. He reaches up to adjust his thick-rimmed glasses. “Uh…hello.”    


Isabelle speaks up with a smile, “We wanted to know if you two wanted to play a game or something.”    


Jeremiah would rather spend his time drawing, such as designing his own mazes, after having been captivated with the intricacies and mathematical logic. Jeremiah shifted in place, seeming to decide whether he should accept the invitation. He muses over the idea and reaches a decision. “Alright. What are we playing?” 

Emily speaks immediately after his words, “Oh we should play hide and seek.”   


Jerome agrees, eyes lighting up, “I love that game!”    


Jeremiah turns to Isabelle with a little shrug. The action was directed more to the girl across from him, ignoring Jerome and Emily’s giddy excitement. Isabelle had simply went along with it. She didn’t mind what activity they would be doing, as long as they were doing something.    
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

The car horns honk, disturbing the rare fragments of silence throughout the night. In Gotham however, was it really a disturbance or even a significant one at that? There was stealing, murder, corruption, and crime everywhere. By day, the city was riddled with corruption and mishaps. Crime was regular and the police worked tirelessly to bring some sort of order. Some cops gave up, falling right into the hands of crime lords’ bidding. 

In the night, nightmares which dwelled in the street’s shadows prayed on the creatures who were too weak for the darkness, greed, and corruption. Their light was a beacon to all monsters who sought to dispel their frustration and anger on those who held very little hate in their hearts. The rules had always been simple. The powerful took from those who are under another’s influence and control. If anyone got in their way, one must pray for a quick death. 

Cold palms held her head upright. A frustrated groan could be heard from inside the apartment. The noise had been her own, stressing over her rent’s deadline which was approaching soon. She didn’t have enough money to pay it off this month and nor would she be able to accumulate the money necessary in the allotted time frame. 

Fingers rubbed soothing circles at her eyelids. “How am I supposed to do this?” 

A subconscious voice spoke. _Listen Isabelle, I already gave you a few suggestions. Why don’t you try those? I bet it’ll ease your situation._ She ignored the echo in her thoughts. Isabelle had been used to it at this point, believing it was nothing more than her own self mocking her troublesome situation. It masked the worse with humor at times, so she didn’t mind the odd thoughts. 

She protested the idea, “There’s no way I’m going to start stealing from random people’s homes.” 

There was a mental huff at the response. _Alright. Fine. But one of these days you’re going to listen to me._ At that, the voice faded into submission. 

Eyelids shut, her nose drew in a deep breath to calm herself. The palms at her face dropped as she shifted her weight in the chair. A dim light from one of the rooms leaked into the hallway, providing little light in the main room. She traced designs atop the table’s surface using the tip of a digit. Her lips pull together in a tight quirk, which could have been mistaken for a smirk. It was getting late. The chair slid across the wood as she moved up from the table with a yawn. Her lids were heavy, flickering open and closed as she made her way to her room in a sleepy shuffle. Tomorrow was another day. At least she had that. 

___   
“Well why didn’t you do it!” a voice came through the walls. 

“What do you mean! I did all I could and it still isn’t enough for you?!” 

“You never do anything right!” ****

Isabelle woke with a grumble, having been jarred from a peaceful sleep she would have liked to continue. The shouts continued through the thin walls and she rubs the tiredness from her face, knowing she’ll be unable to fall back asleep. Legs slide to the edge of the bed, sitting up and she immediately regrets it. A slight headache pounds at her weary eyes. 

She goes through the motions of her morning routine and she’s out the door on time, as she is everyday. There was a cold nip in the air, pulling her brown leather jacket closer to herself. Gothamites walked the streets, no doubt off to their jobs which paid an indecent amount. A woman had eyed her suspiciously as she walked by, but none of it had been a surprise. Everyone in this city never exactly trusted one another. Genuine trust and loyalty came at a high price. No one wanted to pay the price it seemed. 

A tiny ring of a bell gave announcement to her arrival as she stepped through the door. She waved a greeting to the elderly man behind the counter, dawning a significant amount of white hair accumulated through the years. His age was a little younger than what appeared, but in Gotham everyone looked older their age. The stress on a daily basis was too much. 

The greeting was returned, “Morning Isabelle. You read the paper this morning?” 

She shed her jacket, throwing it on the rack, “Morning,” she offered a small smile, “I’m afraid I haven’t Mister Moley.” She hardly had the time to stop and read the newspaper for a few minutes. She had so many jobs to juggle in order to keep herself going. The only time she was able to relax a little was here and her apartment. 

“Apparently, a group of criminals are robbing the banks and throwing it out to the ordinary citizens.” He waves the newspaper in his hand. “Some say it’s only a distraction for them to escape, but others say it’s a true act of nobility,” he scoffs at the idea. “One of them, the leader I’m guessing, wears a red hood. Papers call their posse the Red Hood Gang.” 

“It’s odd to say anywhere else, but I’m not surprised,” she shrugs, repositioning items on shelves. “More and more people have their own theme these days.” 

“Yeah, everyone is getting crazier and crazier. Back when I was in my prime, there was order and real respect.” His lips tighten in disappointment, not directed at her, but at his own thought. “Now, everyone is stabbing each other in the back without reason.” 

Isabelle doesn’t say anything and instead her mouth quirks in silent agreement. Her hand reaches to smooth a piece of black silk cloth laying folded at the counter and her chin cants outward to the cloth, “What’s this?” 

“Oh this,” He moves to the fabric lifting it up and holding it out to her, “...is for you. I saw it at one of the old shops and I thought you might want it since you’re always looking for new fabrics.” 

There’s a warm-hearted smirk on her face, flabbergasted he had actually remembered something she told him. 

He waved in a point at her, “I know that look. You didn’t think I remembered. Just because I’m getting a little older, doesn’t mean I forget everything.” 

She chuckled, “You read my mind,” taking the silk from him, “Thank you Mister Moley.” 

He spoke in reassurance, as if he knew something she didn’t, “Don’t mention it.” He gives her hand a light pat, “Now that we got that over with, time to work. I have a few boxes in the back if you want to get started on stocking those.” 

She begins heading to the back, immediately finding the boxes he was talking about. The silk was set aside and she crouched down to reach for the boxes. She was confused why he had suddenly started giving out gifts. Gift giving wasn’t something he did regularly or even on occasion. There were a few trinkets inside the boxes, covered lightly in dust. She ran her fingers over a few old toys to wipe at the thin coat. She turned a wooden jester figure in her hand and laid it carefully back in the box. 

The bell rang in announcement to visitors. They must not have been friendly since shouting began in the other room. Isabelle stood in a hurry, moving to where they were. She stopped at the sight of a partially masked man clad in black clothing who was staring at Mister Moley with hostile manner. The man turned to Isabelle after having interrupted with her appearance in the room. She glared at the unwelcome stranger. 

“Who’s this?” he asked the elderly man in a calm and cold tone, jutting his chin to her direction in question. 

Isabelle snipped, “Who are you?” 

The man stepped from the counter where he had previously stood over and he began to step to her. “I’m here to retrieve something not of your concern, so step aside,” he stated, attempted to step by her. He tried shoving her aside, but she didn’t let him. She gripped his wrist in a tight hold and twisted it. He lurched back in pain, but recovered quickly. They danced in combat and she blocked his throws, only one hit landing. She was dazed for the short second, but then she retaliated and punched him right in the lip, causing him to stumble back to the floor. He stood slowly, holding his jaw with a bloody lip. 

He looked between the two in a glare, but didn’t make move to attack. Instead he stepped back, stating with a scowl, “You brought this upon yourself. I’ll be back.” With that, he exited out the door and left the shop in a hurry. 

Her breath was ragged as she took deep breaths to steady herself. Her eyes moved to the other at the counter with a confused raise of her brow, “Did you know who that was?” 

Mister Moley lowers his head in a nod, peering at the front door. His face had shown a mask of subtle horror. He was worried, but he tried to hide the feeling. Head shifts from the door in a feature of a sad smile. There was that look again, as if he knew something she didn’t. 

His mouth opens with indecision to say anything, “It would be best you didn’t know.” 

Isabelle respected other people’s privacy, so she didn’t pry. She let the matter be in regards to who that had been or her boss’ connection to the individual. She simply offers, “He’s going to come back. I’ll stay later tonight if you need.” 

He rejects her offer, “Don’t worry about an old man like me. I’ll be alright.” He interjects is own words and adds, “Where’d you learn how to fight?” 

She shouldn’t have been surprised he asked, “I learned not too long ago actually.” Her hands drew together, tracing the indents of her palm. The reasons she had were simple on the surface—to protect herself. However, from who that may be, had been changing as of lately. A new threat was added to the list quite recently and she wasn’t talking about the shop’s recently failed criminal. 

Moley could tell by the fidget of her fingers that she wasn’t comfortable with expanding on her answer, but she hardly ever did with any of her responses. “Well, what you did was impressive kid. Thanks.” 

A smirk tugs at her lip, vision lifting in a collective understanding, “No problem.” 

A word wasn’t said after that and she returned to work. The hours had ticked by slowly. No customers had stopped by. It was a relatively dead day. 

The air was still and inactive. Only dust from antiques floated around the mink shop as she sat back relaxing, oddly finding the time to read the newspaper for once. The same cricket chirped in the background as it did everyday and the sky was growing dark, nearing the time she needed to leave. With a stifled yawn and the lackadaisical cross of her arms, she shifted in her seat to adjust in a more comfortable position. 

The elderly man called out to her in a suggestion, “You should get going dear. I’m sure you’re tired. I have a handle on everything here.” 

He was probably right, but her will and stubbornness told her no. Sticking to her decision, she didn’t move an inch off the chair, eyes beginning to grow heavy. Moley stood to approach her and he made move to help her up, insisting she should go, “Come on.” 

She doesn’t resist, but she protests, “But—” 

He continues to guide her along, handing her her jacket, “I’ll be alright.” 

She shrugs her jacket on and rubs at her brown amber eyes as another yawn escapes her. The bell gives a light ring and she stops to stand under the door with a hesitation to leave. He waves her off with a lighthearted shoo out the door, “I’ll be alright. Get going now. I’ll see you later this week.” 

Turning away from the shop, she makes her way down the street. Cold hands shove into her pockets and her throat hums a pleasant tune in the freezing weather. Her boots click on the concrete, focused on getting back to her apartment. She saw the blare of colorful lights spiraled about. It was in the distance, but he lights were distinct, forever embedded in the vaults of her memory. The ferris wheel glowed obnoxiously in the dark of night. If she stared any more at the display, she’d wince from the weight of memories. Not only the terrible ones, but also the good memories brought an unwanted reaction. They were always a constant echo in her mind’s catacombs. 

A voice bit at the back of her mind, laughing. _Ever think of visiting? I hear they have a killer clown act. They got balloons and everything!_

“Quiet. I don’t want to deal with you right now,” snapped a sleepy Isabelle. 

There was a mental pouting she could recognize in the back of her brain. _Alright. It’s not my fault I’m the echo in your subconscious. But to let you know, you forgot something back at the shop._

She mentally cursed herself, stopping in her tracks to turn around. The silk was back at the shop. She was already halfway home and didn’t want to turn around, but she didn’t want to leave the silk there for the majority of the week. Her heel swept back in direction of the figurative footsteps left behind her. 

Making her way back, she finally reached the quaint building. She pushed open the door and the bell rang as expected. Mister Moley hadn’t been around. Perhaps he was sorting through things in the back? Arms crossed over herself, she found it colder than expected. 

She tried to call out to the man not seen, “Mister Moley?” and started to make her way to the back, wood bending under her feet. “I uh...came to get something I forgot.” She called out a second time, “Mister Moley?” and then whispered a question to herself, “Where could he be?” 

There was a wisp of breeze she couldn’t find the cause of. It might have been coming from an open back door or window. Though, Moley never kept them open when it was this freezing. Her boots clicked forward and stopped, being under the separating wall of the main room and storage. Her eyes widened and her arms released their grasp as they fell to her side. She was right. The door was completely flung open with a burst of air pulling at the door in a light and rickety sway. The door wasn’t what shocked her. 

The old man lay at the ground unmoving, unable to tell the state of his current condition. One meager step after another, her toes were planted next to the body. Her gaze stuck unwavering from his featureless face, devoid of the energy once there. Her knees clicked as she crouched down to her former boss. She had already known he was dead from the loss of lively luster in his eyes. The breeze grew quiet and almost nonexistent as a hand hesitated to reach up and peacefully draw his eyelids closed. Fingertips are delicate to the pull of flesh over his pupils, bringing a final sense of rest to the face. She noticed dark bruises at his neck. It was clear he had been strangled

She stood in up respect, now worried where the perpetrator had fled or if they would come back to rid of any evidence Isabelle hadn’t seemed to notice. She had been here not too long ago, but there was no sign of anyone. In the moment, she couldn’t go looking for something or someone who showed no sign of being around in the silence. Making quick move to reach inside her jacket pocket, she pulled out her flip phone and began dialing the police department’s phone number. 

Someone had picked up and she let them know what was going on. The call was brief and it didn’t seem they were urgent enough for her liking. They explained a patrol be there in about seven minutes to offer assistance. Isabelle figured it was the best she was going to get and spoke a, “Thank you,” before ending the call with a flick to shut the phone closed. 

A breath she didn’t know she was holding was released in a forced exhale as her hand slid down her face in a method used to calm down. Being in the same room was unsettling. She needed air. Not able to stand staying inside to wait in the eerie silence, she took her leave to the front of the building to await the patrol who would arrive. Before she did, Isabelle shuffled over to close the door which had been blowing in a small wind. 

The cold didn’t bother her now. Her back leaned into the wall and waited until help came. The fresh air was a much needed luxury. Time seemed to pass in slow intervals, but before she knew it, the cops were already there. Time passed with thoughts and her thoughts weren’t there, or at least not significant enough for her to hear. 

Loose gravel came up from beneath the tires as the patrol parked. One man with a short beard and a dark-haired woman in their uniforms had gotten out of the vehicle. She could spot the tired look on their faces as she approached them. 

They walked up to her, the woman started the questions, “What seems to be the problem miss?” 

Isabelle began to explain herself, recalling the events, “When I arrived to get something I forgot about, everything had looked in place and nothing looked off. Mister Moley, my boss, wasn’t by the counter, so I figured he might have been in the back of the store,” Isabelle paused for a second, “But then, when I moved to the back to see if he was there, the door had been wide open and I found my boss dead on the floor.” The words had come out easier than she thought. 

The same cop who asked the question before had motioned to the building, “You think you could show us?” 

Isabelle nodded a cooperative yes and lead them inside. She didn’t necessarily want to see the body again, but she urged herself forward anyway, believing the truth shouldn’t be ignored. Her legs stiffened as they got closer to the scene and her arms instinctively crossed over themselves. Her brows furrowed in a swarm confusion and a little embarrassment. There was no body. Any sign of the deceased had disappeared from the sight and she had no idea how the place had been rid of what she had clearly seen before her own eyes only a few minutes before. 

Isabelle stuttered in disbelief, “I—I don’t understand. He was here.” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” questioned the previously quiet cop. 

“This isn’t some trick. I’m being serious,” turning to them in a placid manner. 

The bearded one looked around in prove of his point, “Well, he’s not here now and there doesn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle,” An eyebrow of his quirked in suspicion, “You don’t take any meds do you?” 

She took offense, but tried not to raise her voice or show any means they jabbed a strike at her, “No. I’m perfectly fine and I know what I saw.” 

The man waved his straightened palm In emphasis to his explanation, “Look, we can’t do much. Being there is no body, this becomes a missing persons case and those can’t be filed until twenty-four hours after the disappearance.” 

Her voice wavered with confidence, “A man is dead and you can’t do anything about it?” 

The dark-haired woman sighed with the shake of her head, “Mostly likely, he left Gotham. Shop owners do it all the time. Some can’t handle the stress of business in the city.” 

Their words were taken in, but they didn’t understand. She made a conclusion, jumping at the opportunity to convince them, “A man came in here earlier and ended up attacking us. I think he might have done it.” 

“Did you get a description or a look at their face?” spoke one. 

“There wasn’t much to notice. The man was wearing simple black clothing. He had a hoodie on, black pants, and a basic white mask covering his face. Other than that, I don’t remember much,” her figurative eyes drifted to the compartments of her memory. 

They didn’t seem to believe her, “Right. We can’t do much with that, but we’ll keep it in mind.” 

The woman offered in a light rejection, “We can’t do much else. Sorry miss.”  **  
**

A defeated sigh came from the slump of her shoulders and she let them leave without trouble from her. She made attempt to find what she had came for in the first place, grabbing it right where it was left. She heard the engine start and waited for them ride away in their car before she fled outside and to the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ecco has a bit of schizophrenia in this and we'll see some more of that sparsely throughout the story.


	3. Chapter 3

She sat, blank faced and in shock as her back slid down a nearby wall she came across while walking home. The weight of the situation had finally sunk in. She had lost one of her jobs. How was she supposed to sustain herself now? Her world was falling from under her, piece by small piece. She could only wonder what the universe had in store for her next and with the luck she had, it wouldn’t be a desirable story. Weary eyelids shut, not caring where she currently resided in the cold. Not a single tear fell. By now and through all life had thrown at her, tears became a distant memory which appeared on rare occasion. The most recent occasion wasn’t one she openly talked about, but it had forced her to snap to reality.

She wanted to do something or anything if she could, but the truth was harsh and she had nothing. The man had worn a mask and his features were incoherent to her eyes. There were no clues or leads for her to follow and create her own investigation. If this were any of the novels she read as a kid, there would be a driving clue or a hunch which led to a promising path, but this wasn’t one of those stories. Life wasn’t a fairytale, where one hard ordeal would bring herself to a point when she could relax in the end because she earned the life. There was nothing she could do. When a nobody killed a nobody, the Gotham Police Department didn’t care. However, when a nobody killed a somebody, it was guaranteed the topic for discussion on the local news the very next morning. Justice was rarely ever served to those who deserved it.

Her knees held her chin in what didn’t look like sadness or mourning. It was as if she was simply crouching to enjoy a moment alone in content, with nothing but common wonders. Stress lines on her features didn’t form or neither did any sign of discomfort because, in honesty, she wasn’t disturbed to the point of hysteria. She learned the hard way that people died, in whatever sense that may be, and you couldn’t do anything about it. Thanks to the overwhelming influence of the city, Gotham taught her that one form of strength was created from pain.

Her jaw set uneasily on the bone of her knees and she shut her eyes for a few moments to listen to the common activity and twitch of a city which thrived in the nights. Cats meowed in alleys, lights flicked in an electric buzz, metal from nearby structures screeched, and footsteps connected with concrete. They grew louder, drowning out the other sounds. It would have been smart for her to look up from her crouched position, but frankly she didn’t care. If they bothered her in any way, she would certainly teach them a lesson in manners.

The steps drew to where she sat, stopping in their tracks, “Are you alright miss?”

A chill is sent up her spine. The unfavorable voice which causes her to jolt to attention, but she was afraid to peer up from her knees. It did not make sense if voice belonged to who she thought it belonged to. He should have been in Arkham Asylum. 

A chance was taken to peer up from her knees as fearful anticipation pounded in her chest. The face reflected back at her was not one she expected, but it was a close replacement. The light freckles, ginger hair, and thick-rimmed glasses gave him away. She whispered in recognition of the twin, “Jeremiah?”

His brows scrunched together in confusion and in what looked like worry, “Who—” He had paused for a moment until the realization hit him. Her distinctive features stuck even in adulthood. “Isabelle? Is that you?” he assumed.

“It’s me.” A hand had reached out, pulling her up from the ground. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Ever since…well, you left.” The words faded at the end, remembering the morning she learned the news of Jeremiah’s departure by word of Emily, who had heard from an upset Jerome. 

He let his hand lower back into his jacket pockets. Jeremiah’s eyes fell to the subtle cracks in the concrete sidewalk, “Yes. I remember the day.” A barely audible sigh could be heard while his attention turned to Isabelle, “But, are you alright? Why are you out here on the sidewalk?” 

She laughs sadly, a small chuckle escaping from the bizarre sense of her predicament, “Would you believe me if I said I had nothing left?” The inquiry as a bit dramatic, but she said it nonetheless.

He didn’t know how to respond while his efforts would appear unsympathetic or not genuine, “That is…unfortunate. I’m sorry.”

Jeremiah was acting frantic as if in a hurry to get someplace in the dead of night. She imagined he would take off any second. The body language was subtle enough to notice. There was no doubt he had changed. He may not have been the circus kid she played games with years ago, but this was still the Jeremiah who she had grown to know for a short while.

Her head tilted with a curious concern, “Is everything alright? You seem a little skittish.”

The bottom of his shoes begin to shuffle as if getting ready to move, “It was nice seeing you again, really. But I must go. There are matters I have to tend to.”

Was he going to leave her at that? And with such a vague explanation? Granted, it wasn’t her business to pry into his life or reasons, but the feeling was a bit too familiar. He left everyone without clear explanation of why, abandoning those in the circus who knew him. 

There’s nothing more said between the two and there’s an awkward silence as she watches him walk from her. He’s already a distance away from where he stood before, but she takes a single move forward, “Wait, where are you headed?” The question could have been invasive, but she hoped he didn’t take it in such way.

Steps are dragged to a halt and he turns behind himself, while his eyes land on anything but his childhood friend across the way. There’s no conflict in his mind whether or not he should tell her. In truth, he couldn’t trust her. She might not have been his friend anymore, although it appeared she still valued their friendship long ago. Jerome may have gotten to her as he had with her sister and he simply couldn’t be certain. 

She said she had little left. What had she meant by that? Jerome and her sister were admitted to Arkham. Had she meant she had lost them or had she referenced to something else? He decided to find out what she was talking about to determine whether or not he could consider her a potential threat to be aware of or an ally to befriend. “What you stated before, you said you had suffered loss. What do you mean by that?” he braces, thinking he might have made a mistake in asking a question of the sort. 

It was expected he had chosen not to bring clarity to the reason of his fleeting display and evaded hers with a question of his own. There’s smoke billowing from under the streets and through the sewer grates, blowing in a slow rise in front of them both as a blurry separation. What her own words had meant was a secret she kept more to herself and it had been a spur of the moment type of reaction. Her life was beginning to fall at the seams already, so she gambled it wouldn’t worsen the situation to respond, unlike him. She waits for more silence until finally speaking, “I work to live, both day and night in a continuous cycle of shifts, which give me a few dollars in my pocket. I’m about to lose my apartment because one of my bosses died and now there’s no way to supplement that salary. I’ll be thrown out from my apartment any day now with nowhere to go.” 

The admission of her thoughts weren’t easy to get out, but a long lost friend seemed like someone who might listen. Those who held connection to her past seemed to be recently disappearing, so she wanted to hold what little part she had left, as odd as it was to voice her insecurity. She earned a denial the past few weeks, trying to move on from a event which couldn’t be taken lightly. 

Her eyes downfall, “I’m sure you already know what I’ve already lost not too long ago. Anyone who watched the news the next morning could be able to piece that together if they knew who I am related to.”

She lived in an apartment, contrary to his assumption she still had lived in the circus. His voice was stiff, but also kind, “Yes. It appears both of us had suffered that day.” 

There was much to debate and decide. A conclusion couldn’t be reached on which side of the line she stood. Asking her outright where her loyalties lie would bring about the same response in both truth and lie. If she proved herself, he may very well have acquired a needed friend to assist in his complicated and strange living habits. Taking the risk would be worth it. 

“Would you care to accompany me?” Jeremiah offered with hesitance, “I’d like to talk a little more if you would like.”

She obliged with a nod, as she matched steps with his. Her hands moved under her arms as she tried to keep her fingers from freezing off. “Um...so where are you going?” hoping not to make him feel like she was pushing the subject. It was a perfectly sensible wonder, seeing as she was walking with him. 

He spoke precisely, eyes shifting around in paranoia, “I would prefer not to say.”

There’s a spark of confusion, “If I’m going with you, shouldn't I know where we are headed?”

An eyebrow pulls up, explaining himself, “Quite frankly, I don’t know who you are anymore. We’ve only known each other as children. Past that, you are unknown to me,” and he adds, “Where I travel to is not a concern. I’ll be asking you to leave before I arrive to where I need to be.”

Her head tilts to the side, drawing in a breath. She could tell he didn’t trust her, but the feeling was sensible and mutual. “I guess you’re not wrong. I shouldn’t exactly trust you, but who am I to take the caution anymore?” she replies earnestly, passing it off as a joking tease. Isabelle mentally shook her head. Her opinion of him was limited now, but she could still see tendencies of the closed off kid who spend most of his time alone with piles of papers. The decision to was understandable. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to bring you any trouble,” agreeing with sincerity.

A meek nod come from him and they continued strolling down the moon-lit street. A silence carried behind their echoing feet. Window lights were off, the diner across the street had a few late night meals being served, and a few headlines from the newspaper crinkled across stone brick paths. None spoke to each other for a few moments. They were thinking of what to say next. Jeremiah had been the one to break the silence, “I could help you.”

The suggestion brought her off guard, “In what way?”

His lips were tightened into a straight line before expanding upon his claim, “I’m in need of a proxy to handle specific dealings I maintain with customers. I will be willing to hire you, but certain rules and regulations must be followed.” He knew she would accept the offer, desperate as she was to find a decent job. “Are you interested?” 

Her vision was interrupted by a series of astonished and unbelieving blinks, “I would be grateful to accept. Though, I don’t have much knowledge of professional dealings.”

He peers to her, “You don’t require experience. I could teach you what you’ll need to know and I’ll give you minimal tasks to prepare you, for now. But only in time will I be able to trust you with relaying my work.”

“What would I be relaying for you?” she had asked, having not been aware of what his occupation was. She figured it had a high chance of being something technical or intricate. In her opinion, he had a natural knack for the field.

“When I find you’re able to complete the task, you will be having meetings with the company I work for and showcasing my new projects, architectural designs I finished plans for, and voicing any comments back to me.”

She almost giggled, having guessed he was involved in engineering, and she had to suppress her smile. Isabelle thought it would have been much easier to attend the meetings himself, but that wasn’t of her concern. She was given the opportunity and she didn’t want to blow it. The thought of what may happen to her if she were unable to suffice with the lack of salary was motivation enough. 

“Before you begin working for me, you’ll have to know I don’t go by Jeremiah anymore. My name was changed to Xander Wilde after I had left. I require that you go under an alias as well to maintain the security of my own identity, seeing as you’ll be associating with me.” he explained with a steady calm, pulling his cobalt coat closer as a short gust of wind blew by.

A stream of names ran through the idea board, but she couldn’t think of any names which necessarily stuck. She bit her lip in concentration and then a whisper caught her attention. Echo. Echo. Echo. The repeating word had been in her mind, felling a pressure or a push which was not of physical effect. The word clicked with her. She had decided, “You can call me Ecco,” she smiled, “Nice to meet you Mister Wilde.”


	4. Chapter 4

It had been months, going on a year and the same routine occurred. She would be getting a text any minute. Eyes gleamed over a book as she sat by the window with a setting sun. The written words did not have register in her brain and instead her thoughts had been on her own stresses and frustrations. 

Isabelle had begun getting frustrated with the continuous mystery which surrounded Xander. It was hard trying to meet all his expectations and sometimes they had gotten ridiculous to the point she felt dismayed, which she was currently in the state of. Each of their meetings with one another had been the same. He’d text her a random location which had changed every time and she would meet him there to discuss any of their business matters. She felt as though he was making it more difficult than it should have been. Sure, she expected tons of rules, but it could have been easier for them both if he visited her apartment or have her visit wherever he had lived.

The novel was shut and carefully set down to a small table which sat near the window. On queue, the phone buzzed in alert with a tapping hum against the wooden surface. Leaning over, her arm extended in reach for the device. He had responded later than usual, but he could have been head deep in his designs again. The button clicked open the text, informing her of the location, being Aparo Park. 

Legs pulling herself up, she slipped on her black boots, snatched the novel she had been skimming through before, and grabbed her leather jacket to head out the door. While she had been a little annoyed with the circumstances at hand and the means of how they have been going about their meetups, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. He was intelligent, genius level intellect, and she was sure he’d be able to understand her view.

The sun was setting and the light began to vanish from the orange sky. Luckily the park was close enough to her apartment that she would be able to walk and leave her motorbike behind. The park served as a home to a few trees and patches of grass which weren’t well maintained, scattering the place in patches of brown. She looked around for him and as usual, he was at the location first. She found him sitting at a bench, legs crossed and hands folded. 

She approached, the crunch of dirt alerting him of her presence. Moving to sit next to him, not too close and not too far away, her legs stretched out on top of one another. The heel of her boot dug into the dirt.

Straight to business he asked, “Do you have it?”

She reached for the book she had lay next to her sitting position and held it out to him. Jeremiah gathered the novel from her, turning it over in his hand and flipping through pages to read a few lines. 

The pages brushed against his fingers and he uttered a, “Thank you,” until continuing, “I suppose while I’m here, I’ll tell you what you will be getting next. I need a basic component which you should be able easy enough. I need a simple tube or pipe with a one inch diameter will do.”

She nods, but her problems with the situation were getting to her. All she had done was give him a book. All the precaution behind it didn’t seem necessary to her. She lets out a breath, “Why do we always have to have these meetings so secretive?”

“Why do you ask?” his tone wasn’t hostile, but it was defensive.

Her mouth opens to speak and she’s careful to what she says, “You’re making these meetings harder than it needs to be. That’s all. I have no problem with your secrecy and I respect your privacy, but I’m not asking for much except some compromise once and awhile.” 

Her tone didn’t raise to a point of anger, but someone would be able to tell the thought had been bothering her. Jeremiah shakes his head, twiddling with his fingers which didn’t go unnoticed by her, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not?” She muttered.

His words were straightforward and blunt, “Everything must stay how it is. It’s the only way to ensure my safety.”

“Your safety from what? Me?” Her brows rose in challenge, obvious it was something she had dwelled on.

“Yes and no.”

“How am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It means I can’t fully trust you,” It was a partial lie.

She must have been asking too many questions now, “Why can’t you? I proven myself haven’t I?”

“Ecco, listen to me. You have to trust me when I say I can’t change this,” he had said sternly.

“How do you expect me to trust you when you can’t do the same in return?”

He was silent and growing slightly annoyed by the discourse between them, but he wasn’t becoming angry. Her concerns were expected.

She calms, trying to reason with him, “We do the same thing over and over again, each time. It would be much easier on both of us if we meet at each other’s place at least once and a while.”

Both hadn’t noticed someone stepping towards them. 

Jeremiah started to speak, “I—”, but he had been interrupted.

A person spoke, “If I were you two, I’d hand over your valuables,” pointing a gun in their direction.

They turned their heads toward the man. The weapon was pointed at Jeremiah as the man got closer. Ecco reacted, standing to get up. 

The man turned the weapon on her, “Don’t get any ideas now, missy.”

Her jaw tightened and she didn’t move. The man turned back to Jeremiah, a single reach away. Jeremiah didn’t say anything. She could tell he was terrified. 

“Would you be so kind to hand over your money?” the man pressured Jeremiah.

He obliged and shakily reached in his pocket, pulling out his wallet. She wasn’t one to stand by as this happened. Ecco wanted to do something. 

The armed man shoved the gun forward, “What’s in your other pocket?”

Jeremiah was reaching down to his other pocket, but Ecco had about enough of it, quickly losing her cool. She was close enough, so she lunged forward for the gun, shoving it to the side. There was a bang, a bullet shooting out, as she struggled to overpower the assailant. The man tried to point the blunt end at her, but she held it away from herself. She made quick move to kick at his kneecap and sweep her legs from under him, sending him falling to the ground. The gun loosened from his grasp and Ecco took it from him. He lay at the ground and started to get up, but before he did, Ecco send a swift kick to knock him out and she took back the stolen money.

Living in Gotham, she knew the advanced defense classes would pay off. It took her a second to register the noises she heard at the back of her head. She had been so focused on the struggle to realize where the groaning was coming from. She turned, wide-eyed, to Jeremiah holding his left arm. He had been shot when she tried disarming the hostile figure. 

Her steps were reactionary, moving to crouch by his side, “We need to get you to a hospital. Gotham General isn’t that far--”

He winced, trying to sit up while putting pressure on his arm to slow the blood, “No. No hospital. You have to take me somewhere else.”

She helped him up, “Where?”

He began walking to the side of a semi-busy street with her help. He was able to walk, but the pain in his arm was unbearable. The sharp sting was spreading by the second. He told her, “Get a taxi,” while still holding his wound.

She did as he asked without a second thought she motioned for a taxi. A car pulled up and Ecco opened the backdoor, helping him get in. She stopped for a moment, not sure if she was supposed to follow. 

He answered her question soon after, waiting for her to get in as he uttered a painful, “Hurry. Get in,”

She moved into the backseat with him, shutting the door as Jeremiah told the driver an address she was unfamiliar with. The driver didn’t ask any questions and they were on their way.

The drive was longer than what she was expecting. Peering out the window, they were drawing closer to what appeared to be a wooded area. They came to a dirt path, driving further and further into the clutter of tall trees. This shouldn’t have been right. Had he said the wrong address? The car began to slow.

Ecco whispered to Jeremiah, “Are we in the right place?”

Jeremiah didn’t say anything as the car stopped in the middle of the woods. It was definitely sketchy. Jeremiah made move to get out, not a fraction of worry on his face. The only feature which was had been pain. 

Ecco paid the driver with the money she still held onto after taking it back from the armed man. She rushed out to help him get out and when they were, the taxi drove off as if it weren’t an unusual occurrence. 

He began moving to what looked like a small shed and she followed, an uneasy swirl in her stomach. She continued behind him until they reached the entrance to whatever the structure was. “Where are we?” she murmured as her eyes dragged across the short walls.

He thumbed button on a small device planted to one of the walls and he spoke into it, “Xander two-four-three,” then he released the button. 

A panel big enough for them to walk through, opened with a metallic scrape and a green light illuminated above them. He turned to her, motioning her to walk through, “It’s my home,” he stated in reference to her previous question.

Blood rushed past his fingers and dripped to the dry leaves scattered around. He walked into the small building, which wasn’t the size it had seemed from the outside. She tried avoiding the drops of blood while moving inside with him. She felt she was in a state of limbo, not sure how to take this all in. It had become even more astonishing as they moved down some stairs and to a brightly lit underground system, accustomed with a spew of hallways. He continued forward into the separating halls, not stopping to check if she were following. The hallways of concrete diverged in different directions, one path leading one way and others leading in completely other directions. It was a maze, she had come to realized. He lived in an underground maze.

They came to another sliding door, saying what he had said before into the outside module, but using a different number. The sliding door opened in the same manner. The room inside had a scatter of papers everywhere. The sheets lay across a decently long table, pinned all along the walls, and stacked in piles atop a desk. With a closer look, she’d be able to tell these had been designs of his for projects he must have been working on. It was overwhelming but she couldn’t dwell on all of it for now. Jeremiah required her help.

Jeremiah began to shed his coat, tossing it across his desk. He leaned in a sitting position against his desk, pulling up his sleeve to examine the wound, wincing at the sight. Crimson stained his hands and sleeve. His attention shifted to her standing form for a single second, until turning back to the wound. His chin juts out in motion to a drawer on another side of the room, “The kit is in there.”

She moves to the drawer, opening it to find a first aid kit and then she brings it to set on the desk. Clicking the box open, she finds some rubbing alcohol, a sewing kit, bandages, and a small cloth. 

He tells her, “Luckily, the bullet exited, so all you have to do is clean and stitch the wound.”

She is hesitant, “I’ve never sewn a wound together before. Are you sure you want me to do it?”

He nods a confident yes and her digits hover over the materials, until she takes a deep breath. Her hand fastens around the bottle of rubbing alcohol and goes ahead to take the cloth out too. The cloth is dampened with alcohol and she prepares everything, figuring everything has to be sterilized first.

She takes the cloth and places it over his wound. His teeth grit in a hiss of pain from the excruciating sting. She murmurs a, “Sorry,” and then continues to clean the wound with a bit of pressure as the bleeding slows. She orders him to hold the cloth as she retrieves the thread and needle. He shifts uneasy. She takes it he must not like needles. 

The room is still. She was beginning to see why he lived down here and away from all the busy noise. She voiced her thoughts, “You like the silence down here?”

His face eases some, “I prefer it to the city. Here, it’s much more isolated and away from everyone.”

“So you’re hiding?” her brow lifts.

His tone is bland, “I decline to answer that.”

Here he goes again with his constant mystery, so she decides to push a little, “What, you don’t trust me? Even after I saved your life?”

He hums in acknowledgement, taking a couple of seconds to muse over his response. She did defend him against the assailant and risked her own life to protect him, so he supposed that proved as evidence enough. “Alright. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” he jokes lightly.

She chuckles a hum in her throat, “Well, thanks,” she offers in sarcastic jest while binding his injury with the thread. 

His face falls serious, gaze meandering to the concrete floor. Something was bugging him. He finally speaks as she finishes the messy stitches on the other side of the wound, where the bullet exited, “Thank you,” he offers with sincerity, but then he pauses once more. 

She’s intent on listening, waiting for him to continue as she puts the materials away. 

His tone is lower, much less stiff, “You never knew what he did to me behind the trailer doors, did you?”

She knew exactly who Jeremiah was talking about. Jerome was the likely and most probable subject from how Jeremiah was referencing the person of subject. 

He took her silence as a yes, poison in his tongue, “He had done horrible things to me. Each thing he did was all a part of what he called his game. It was sick. One time, on our tenth birthday he held a cake knife to my throat and another time he tried lighting my bed on fire. It was a living nightmare.”

Ecco stilled her body and swallowed at the imagery of Jerome playing such terrible tricks on him. She had always suspected there was something wrong with Jerome. He seemed like a brother who cared for his sibling on the outside, but apparently that proved false out of the eyes of the public.

She took a chance and shared her own insecurities, hoping it may ease him some bit, “Jerome was a reason why I left the circus. I couldn’t take how he had been manipulating my sister. I saw how he acted and he knew that I knew. He turned my sister against me. I tried to make her realizing what he was really doing to her, but she didn’t listen. Now look where they both are.”

An understanding and sympathetic nod come from him, “Let’s hope Arkham serves its purpose and keeps them where they need to be.”


	5. Chapter 5

Ecco had just finished a meeting with the head project overseers of Mayers and Hayes, the company who had taken a liking to the engineer they know as Xander Wilde. His designs were yet another success on his end. They had loved his idea for the addition of a new section which would be added to some of their older business buildings on the east side of Gotham. They had practically sealed the deal as she walked in. 

Having been done for the day, earlier than expected, she decided to go relax at her apartment before reporting to Jeremiah in person. She trudged up the stairs to her apartment, unlocking the door with a click of the lock. 

She switches the television on and lets it play in the background as she sets her things atop the table. The keys to her motorbike set with a metallic cling along the counter. She adjusts a few strands of blonde hair which fell from out of her bun and begins to shift to the couch. The program plays through, set on the local news channel.

Her legs almost fail to hold her up before she could reach the couch. Her stomach falls as if she had gone down a long drop from a tall roller coaster. She could believe what the news reporter was informing her of from the television. 

Ecco listened to the broadcast, trying not to fall over, “Today there had been a breakout at Arkham Asylum. We caution you to be on the lookout for these seven inmates: Richard Sionis, Aaron Helzinger, Robert Greenwood, Arnold Dobkins, Jerome Valeska, Barbara Kean, and Emily Frances. They are all dangerous and we urge you call the police if you see any one of them.”

She thought there was a possibility they could be coming for him, or herself. She didn’t know how they broke out or why, but all she knew is that she had to get to Jeremiah as soon as possible. Likely, he wouldn’t even know of the breakout yet. 

She grabbed her keys and ran out the door, not stopping to turn off the T.V., being she felt there was little time to waste. Flying down the stairs, she reached her motorbike, starting it up with the turn of a key. 

Her head was in another place as the wheels zoomed to their destination. She promised herself not to panic. It would be best to remain calm. Emily or Jerome wouldn’t have known where either of them were. It would be insanely difficult to find either of them, but not impossible. 

Her bike comes to a stop, outside the entrance to Jeremiah’s underground bunker. Her strides are long and extensive, making her way to the door. Her finger thumbs down on the button, voicing her code to the front door, “Ecco one-two-eight.” 

The door wizzes to the side, marking her arrival. The sliding metal closes behind her and she enters the maze with ease, having memorized the path to his office the many times she had been here before. He’d certainly be in his office at this time of day. Well, then again, that’s where he spend most of his days and nights. A few times she had to scold him for not sleeping a couple of days in a row. 

Her boots click on the concrete, swerving through the hallways she knew. He would be aware of her arrival. All was monitored from cameras around an outside his home to track the movement in and out, mostly outside. No one has been able to breach the bunker yet, whether it be by curious hikers, baffled teenagers, or sniffing animals. 

Once again, she presses the button on the module to his office, “Ecco four-nine-six,” and enters with prolonging steps. 

He turns at the sound of the door, greeting her, “Ecco, I was expecting you later. What brings you so early? Did the meeting go well?”

He didn’t know what happened, as she predicted. She chooses to answer his questions first, but there’s no excitement on her face, knowing what she’ll have to tell him, “They loved your design. They bought it pretty much right away.”

Jeremiah was thrown off by her sorrowful demeanor, “Then what’s wrong?”

She wants to prepare him before telling him and prepare herself as well, so she gives herself a few seconds by suggesting, “You might want to sit.”

He doesn’t do so and it forces her to continue with the bile of words in her throat, “There was a breakout at Arkham,” both of them tense up, “Some inmates escaped along with Emily and Jerome.”

His jaw drops with worry and he decides to take a seat at his desk. A hand runs down his face in attempt to let the information process. A shaky breath is let out and he mutters in disbelief, “How?”

Ecco walks closer, stopping right before the edge of the desk, “No one knows.”

Jeremiah quickly stands and paces leisurely around the room. He always did so when he gets stressed or worried. He started muttering to himself, inaudible to Ecco’s ears. 

He talks a little louder for her to hear, getting a bit frantic, “He’ll be coming for me. I know it. I’ve always known. He’ll come eventually.”

“Calm down. He can’t get to you here,” Ecco tries to reassure him.

Ecco can’t tell if he heard her or not and he continues rambling, “Emily might do the same for you. Since you work for me, if they find one of us, they’ll likely find both of us.”

“It’s alright. Calm down. He won't get to you. Not here,” She holds her hands in front of herself in a calming gesture, “I’ll protect you. Okay?”

His rambling stops and he closes his eyes to take a deep breath, “Okay.”

He relaxes for a few moments and proceeds to sit back down. Ecco simply watches until her legs lead her forward to sit at the edge of his desk.

His voice is low and weak, “They can’t even hold him for two years? How am I supposed to expect them to keep him locked up where he needs to be?”

“You can’t. If he wants to get out, he’ll find his way out. Jerome gets his way,”  
speaking realistically.

“Unfortunately, yes,” An idea strikes him and he peers up at her, “But that doesn’t mean we have to stand around and wait for them to find us. We have to be prepared if we want to be the ones to prevail. I won’t allow them to win whatever game they’re playing.”

Her fingers drum lazily, “I’m not following. What do you mean?”

He smirks, “A plan, of course. Arkham has already proven useless in such a short time,” he pulls out a blank sheet of paper and a blueprint of what looks like his maze, “I say we make the maze their asylum.”

It was a peculiar idea, but she went with it, “How are we supposed to do that?” 

He pointed to a few sectioned areas in the middle of the maze, “I had safety rooms installed in case the maze was compromised and I needed to hide. They are scattered across the estate. I can repurpose them into a holding cell to contain Jerome and Emily. I’m confident they won’t be able to escape.”

“I’m not sure about this,” she admitted.

Jeremiah offered, “Trust me. If we do this, they will have no power over either of our lives. We’ll be free.”

With a meek nod, she agrees, “Alright. I trust you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Ecco curses, having dropped her keys with both hands carrying her groceries. The brown bags are set down to the floor, reaching out to retrieve the dropped keys. The keys twist in the lock and the door is pushed open with a budge. The hinges were getting old. Bending down to pick up the groceries, she then walks in the doorway, the door noticeable closing with an unintentional slam. The door bolt is fastened in place and she makes sure the door is locked from behind her.    


The floor creaks from under her weight and she settles the bags on the kitchen area’s counter. There’s more creaking, but it’s not hers. Someone else is in her apartment. She is about to turn around, but then stops, when she knows who it is.   


“You got any ice cream in there?” the recognizable voice behind her rasps.   


With Jerome, it was best to remain calm and not bring about an extreme reaction, or he’ll go off. He fed off other’s fear, teasing and torturing them to surface what was deep within. Jerome had thought everyone had insanity embedded within themselves and with a little push they could become free, as he had become.    


“I was wondering when you’d come,” she called out with steady defense.    


“Me? I’m flattered,” he teased.   


She’d thrown him off balance. Now she was already one step ahead of him, as if she wasn’t already. She turns around, finding Jerome on the other side of the room, arms folded at his back and creeping nearer.    


He swayed side to side on his heel as he approached with a grin on his face, “So little miss proxy, where is he?”    


Ecco held a steady defense, having been prepared to be face to face with Jeremiah’s twin, “I’ll never tell you,”   


Giving up Jeremiah wasn’t an option and she’d be ready to sacrifice herself if needed, but that wasn’t a part of the plan. Everything was under control.   


A switchblade was flicked out in his hand, and he frowned playfully, “Hmm, I don’t know. I could be very persuasive.”   


The blade was lifted to graze her cheek, trying to scare her. The intimidation wouldn’t work on her. She knew what he was doing, trying to bring up Emily.   


“We both know how far your manipulation can get you,” she smirked instead of shooting the anger she so desperately wanted to reflect in her eyes.   


He laughed darkly, knowing exactly who she was referring to, “You snooze you loose. I got to her first.”   


She huffed, nose scrunching up as her gaze directed him towards a cage which was stationed against a wall, “You see that?”   


He twisted to the direction of her eyes, lip quirking in puzzlement. His eyebrows furrowed, “I was wondering about that,” The knife waved around her face, “You got a big dog or something?”   


Ecco smirks with mischief in her eye, “No, that’s how I’m going to transport you,”   


Jerome was baffled, not aware of the plan she and Jeremiah had to counter his own. Before he could react or open his mouth, Ecco smacked her elbow into his cheek, dazing him, before she throw a punch which put him unconscious on the floor. He was for sure knocked out cold. It was time to load him in the cage and put him in the car she had in addition to her older motorbike.    


Picking up her phone, she dialed Jeremiah letting him know of Jerome’s successful capture.    


Ecco informed Jeremiah, “I’ve got him.”   
  
Jeremiah’s voice spoke from the other end, “Good. Now, get him here quickly before he wakes.”    


She gave confirmation, “Of course,” and flicked the phone closed to end the call.   


The maniac lay at her feet, unmoving. Her hands wrapped around one of his ankles dragging him to the cage. She pulled him up and shoved him inside to fit. Luckily, the elevator had been working recently after so many years of ignoring the needed maintenance.  ****  
** **

___   
Jeremiah had met her at the stairs as she dragged the cage with his brother inside. She could tell it was unsettling to see his brother in person, but he set the thought aside and helped her lift the cage as they transported him down the lower level. They both moved seamlessly through the maze knowing exactly where to go. Ecco knew the place almost as well as him, after spending her free time trying to commit the entire layout to memory. It payed off and she was able to navigate the area without anymore assistance from the maze’s creator.    


They reached one of the repurposed cells, placing Jerome down, careful not to jar him awake. Jeremiah willed the room to open with the specific number code which he imputed into the number pad with five beeps from the machine. The concrete shifted, opening way to a diminutive space with blank walls. They heaved the pen the rest of the way in as he sleep like a baby though all the disturbance. Ecco stooped down to unlatch the opening. They grabbed at his limbs, pulling the red-head out and onto the floor. It didn’t seemed he would be waking up anytime soon. Jeremiah took hold of the cage and they strolled out. She pressed the release button and the wall slid with a tight hold.    


Her head tilted to Jeremiah, “One down and one to go,”   


He offered a sad smile, “Almost there. We’ll get her.”   


Ecco nodded once, understanding settling between the two.    


Together, they walk to the living room to decide what their next move will be. Jeremiah speaks his voice authentication, “Xander five-five-zero,” and they arrange themselves inside. Ecco plops on the couch, arm against the armrest, and Jeremiah sits at one of the sofa sectionals.   


The tip of her thumb is held by the edges of her teeth, nerves working her up, “You think this will work?”   


He reassures her, “The system will hold. We’ll only have to worry about keeping an eye on them.”   


She wasn’t talking about the actual plan, “No, I mean do you think we won’t have to worry anymore and we’ll be free of them once it’s done?”   


He slouches forward some and adjusts his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Only time can tell. But we do what we must. They’ve held us captive for too long, now it’s their turn.”   


She was about to say more, but a red light caught their attention. Jerome was awake much sooner than they had thought, almost immediately after they had left. They exit the living room and go to his office, where the selection of monitors were. Jeremiah immediately flicked on the monitors, which rose to static, then clarified into a clear picture. Jerome had found the camera inside the cell, speaking into it. Jeremiah sat down to watch the monitors, unmuting the sound to hear what Jerome was saying. Ecco stood by, watching with him.  


Jerome got close to the camera, all of his face overwhelming the shot, “You didn’t have to run away like that. You see, I’d never hurt you...Xander,” he giggled and teased, “I can’t wait to see you. Did you think about me? I know that you did. Oh I’m going to squeeze you until you pop!”   


A beeping went off and Jeremiah switched focus of the monitors, surveillance of Jerome muted and shifted to a smaller monitor. The outside camera had detected motion of a car pulling up. The well known Captain of the GCPD, James Gordon, stepped out with his partner, Harvey Bullock.    


He stares at the monitor, taking observation of the two cops outside, “This is going to cause problems. They must have finally figured it out,” he turns barely to the side “Bring them to me. I’ll handle them.”   


She gives a quick nod and exits to navigate the maze, towards the entrance. She hears the door’s strong hinges twisting to open the door as she approaches. The two step inside, looking around. It’s obvious they have many questions. She makes her way up the stairs to escort them.   


The bearded one, known as Harvey Bullock, speaks as soon as she appears, “Uh...who are you?”   


Her face is stoic, “You can call me Ecco. I assume you’re here to see Mister Wilde. Correct?”   


James Gordon mentions, “Yes. There’s a few things we’d like to bring to his attention,” he brings up questioningly, “I’m guessing you’re his proxy?”   


Her tone is placid, “I am.” She is along her way down the stairs, waiting for them to follow, “Follow me.”   


They do so and they descend to find the labyrinth.   


Harvey wonders, “So this whole joint is underground?”   


“Mister Wilde values his privacy,” Ecco states simply.   


Jim seems to have natural instinct to interrogate for any information on Xander Wilde, “How long has he lived here?”   


“He finished construction six years ago,” continuing to Jeremiah’s office, without giving away anything more as she comes up to the door and activates the voice authentication, “Ecco, four-nine-six.” She turns to the two men, inviting them to walk inside as she waits with her arms folding behind her back, “He’ll see you now.”   


She waits for both to enter, closing the door herself, instead of letting the mechanisms do so. Ecco hopes they don’t find out of Jerome’s current whereabouts. Jeremiah turned off the monitors, so they shouldn’t be able to figure it out. All the cops she had met never seemed too bright, but Captain Gordon was different. He was quite intuitive.    


She decides to roam the maze, staying near the entrance if any more unwanted visitors came. She wasn’t sure how much the detectives knew of what was going on, so she remained vigilant. While passing the entrance, she heard banging. It wasn’t too loud, but it drew enough of her attention. She stood in place, waiting to see if it would occur a second time. The banging pounded at the door again, louder this time. Jeremiah wouldn’t be able to see who or what was outside, having shut off the systems in his office, so the responsibility fell to her to find out.   


The banging grew silent until she got to the door and it started again. Whoever this was, wasn’t going to leave until they got an answer, so she pressed the intercom which connected to the one on the other side. She displayed an authoritative voice, “Who’s there?”   


  
Something was wrong.   


  
A man’s voice spoke in rhythms and rhymes through the speaker, “Fall into the spell of these words. For you may give us all the passwords. Let us in. So we may share our sin. You will sleep at the count of three and let in thee,”   


  
“One”   


  
His words were instantly paralyzing to her mind and body. She couldn’t mute the voice.   


  
“Two”   


  
Her consciousness was falling into a place she never had known before and something in the back of her mind, which had grown to be dormant, came out once again.  _ Let’s make a deal. You could latch consciousness with mine if you agree to let me stay. No more getting rid of me.  _ Ecco was running out of time, so she regrettably agreed. She wasn’t going to abandon Jeremiah when someone was trying to get in, so she would agree.  _ Word of caution: you’re not going to remember this conversation. _ _  
_

  
“Three”   


  
Ecco was too late. She lost consciousness and blacked out, or at least that’s what it felt like happened. She felt her body moving, going through routine sequences. She was opening the door, much to her protest, but she couldn’t stop herself. For a momentary change, her vision began to return, along with hearing. There was some connection happening, one which was of unusual and unnatural origin. It didn’t feel right. Suddenly, her mind seemed to resurface, along with her vision.   


Her eyes widened in both shock and fear, wanting to run, but her body hadn’t been affected as her mind. She was still paralyzed. Her eyes must have been playing trick on her. It was the only reason she would accept to explain why she was seeing her sister right in front of her.   


Emily’s face was painted with a huge grin, “Hi there Sis. How you doing? Surprised to see little old me?” her hand grips Ecco’s shoulder, “Oh look she’s speechless. Doll, you really must have missed me,” Emily threw a wink at her.  Ecco desperately wanted to move.   


Emily knocks against her sister’s head, “Hello? Anyone in there. Hatter! You broke her! That was supposed to be my job!”   


“Calm Emily. She’s only hypnotized,” Hatter inquires, “Have you forgotten the plan already?”   


Emily’s lip juts out in a pout, “No,” her arms cross over one another, “I’m just impatient.”   


“Good, then we shall proceed merrily,” Hatter turned to Ecco, “Take us to Jerome in a hurry please and make sure to remember your manners.”   


Ecco’s legs moved for her, paving the path to Jerome for them. She was betraying Jeremiah, but couldn’t stop. She wanted to anything of her own accord. Anything to at least know she still had a part of herself left, but it was no use. She pressed in the five digit code and the door opened, releasing Jerome.   


When Jerome stepped out, Emily practically assaulted him with a hug.   


Jerome grinned, holding her, “Hi doll. You miss me?”   


She had a huge smile to match his, “You know so.”   


Emily noticed the fresh bruise on his cheek, “Did they give you a boo-boo? Oh those bullies. Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”   


Jerome replies, “Tempting as that is doll, we have to focus. There’s a plan at play, so stick to it.”   


Emily gives a small salute, intimidating the mannerisms of a soldier, “Copy that General Jerome.”   


Jerome laughs, “That’s my girl. Find me at the maze’s end when you’re done. Other than that, you know what to do.”   


Jerome separated from the group, walking away, and Emily turned her heel to Ecco.   


Emily snaps at the man in a black top hat, “Well hurry up Hatter. Sis and I have a lot of family bonding to make up for.”   


Hatter indulged, speaking so Ecco could hear, “Only when a bond is broken, will a new one be the token.”   


She was brought back from the hypnotic state, but she was in a weird daze which convinced her to unwillingly stay still.   


Emily noticed an awareness in her sister’s eyes again, “Perfect! There she is.”    


Ecco would’ve been shaking, but she physically couldn’t. The sister she tried avoiding was right before her. The nightmarish memories were already flooding in.   


Emily pointed to someone Ecco couldn’t see, “Bag-head, take Hatter with you and go with Jerome,” she giggled, waving them off and they were on their way.   


Her mouth was finally able to move, finding she was allowed to talk. However, she didn’t know what to say to the one she couldn’t forgive. “Emily,” was all she could muster.    


“So she talks,” Emily jokes, “Welcome to the party. How’s life treating you?”   


Ecco quips, “Miserable now that I see your face here.”   


“Oh and here I thought I’d be a nice change from the last time you saw it. You know, not being covered in blood and all,” she smirked mischievously.   


“If you’re looking for forgiveness or closure, you won’t get any from me. What you did was unforgivable.” Ecco spat.   


Emily’s chin mockingly lowers, “Unforgivable you say? I took it as an act of charity.”   


“You’re crazy,” Ecco spat with hostility, still unable to move.   


“Go ahead. I want to hear you say it. Tell me what I did that made me crazy.”   


Ecco doesn’t answer and instead tries to exploit an insecurity, “I hope you know Jerome will toss you aside when this is over.”   


There’s a scoff from Emily, “Shallow blow. I expected more from you. Really Isabelle, you’re so uncivilized.”   


Emily was much different from who she had known before, even after she had initially been driven mad. Her sister was lost a long time ago, replaced by a monster who stole her sister’s face and smile. It had always been Jerome’s fault. All of it tied back to him, corrupting Emily from the start. Young Isabelle had been too blind to realize early enough and by the time she did, it was too late.   


“I’m waiting Izzy. You going to tell me how I destroyed your life?” Emily voiced impatiently, mimicking a yawn.   


Ecco’s lips tightened, gaze falling to the ground, unable to say the words while looking into Emily’s dead blue eyes, “You—you killed our parents.”   


A hand patted her face, “There we go. Not hard at all,” Emily was testing her, “Now tell me whose fault was that?”   


The obvious answer was the one who killed them, being Emily, but Ecco had always given Jerome the blame as well. The murder wouldn’t have happened without the other. Ecco reached a conclusion, “The fault falls to you and Jerome. Their blood is in both of your hands.”   


Emily made a harsh noise as if they were on a game show and Ecco had said the wrong answer, “Nope, that’s the assumed answer, but not the right one,” Blonde brows furrowed, “The truth is, dear harlequin, that their deaths are on yours and Jeremiah’s hands.”   


“What disillusion are you living?” teeth gritting under sealed lips, “How is it our fault?”   


A hysterical laugh bounces from the walls, escaping Emily’s lips. It takes her a while to compose herself, “You think Jerome and I are the monsters? Well take a good look in the mirror, cause you reflect the same,” her hand extends in the air dramatically, “You see, all those years ago you were the star of the show in Mommy and Daddy’s eyes. You always got the most attention and praise. You always were their favorite. You always got what you wanted when you asked. You always were the one who stole their hearts. How do you think I felt about that?”   


No. None of it was right. Emily was insane. She was seeing what she wanted to see. She was making up an excuse for her guilt. It wasn’t true. She was there for her little sister and her parents loved her. Jerome dragged Emily into the insanity and chaos. Why couldn’t Emily ever be able to understand that?   


Ecco interrupted, “Emily that’s not—”   


Emily pulled out a blade, pointing it to the hypnosis-paralyzed sister, “Let me finish,” and when Ecco got quiet she continued, “Jeremiah, on the other hand, lied to everyone. He said Jerome tried lighting him on fire while he sleep or held a knife to his throat. That wasn’t exactly the truth, yet everyone had chosen to believe the gifted twin. When Jeremiah left, life became worse for Jerome. He was yelled at and abused by his drunken mother who mourned the loss of one of her sons. She never stopped mourning. I tried helping him, but in reality, he helped me realize the world as it was. The only way to be free is let go and get rid of anyone who brings pain...” Emily offers a quick grin, “Or make them better.”   


Ecco trusted Jeremiah and couldn’t believe he would have lied about something so serious. Jerome must have fed her the lies, wrapped in a story of sorrow. What she said was only further proof of Jerome’s sick manipulation.   


Emily moved next to her sister, whispering in her ear, “I’m not the villain. You are dear sister.”   


Before Ecco could say anything more, Emily’s fist connected with her skull, knocking her out cold.   
  


___   
Her vision was covered in darkness, but there were distant voices which were distorted. The voices became more clear with time and slowly the feeling in her body returned with an ache in her head and the back of her eyes. Her eyes began to flicker open and she was able to hear the single voice. It was Jeremiah.   


“Ecco? Ecco?” He was couched next to her, helping her sit up, “Are you alright?”   


“I think so,” she grumbled out, the headache still pounding as she rose her hand to her forehead.   


“Are you okay? What happened?” she tried getting up, but found it was a bad idea, so she remained on the floor.    


“Jerome escaped. He found me at the maze’s end and told me horrible things. Unfortunately, Jerome escaped,” he paused a moment, “Emily was also there. She got away as well with two others who had accompanied them.”   


“I had the pleasure of catching up with dear sister. She tried blaming my parents’ death on both you and I,” she found she was finally able to stand, with Jeremiah’s help.    


“I suppose reunions were tonight’s theme,” Jeremiah shakes his head lightly, “Jerome had found reason to blame his madness on me.”   


“You know he’s lying Jeremiah,” she brought to his attention.   


He murmured, “I know,” and then spoke up, “The police are putting me under custody while Jerome is still on the loose. They say they’ll be putting a patrol outside your apartment. Captain Gordon is taking us to the station right now. You’ll be able to get medical attention if needed.”   


She started walking, still as little dizzy, but Jeremiah steadied her, “Alright. I suppose we should get going then.”   


The headache was fading, but there was a weird clouded feeling at the back of her head to slowly replace the ache. There was humming, but her ears couldn’t hear it. The humming was inside.   


Her heart sank. The voice had came back.    


_ Hey Isabelle didn’t know a nickname of yours was harlequin. Was that from the circus or somethin’? _ ****  
** **

Ecco mentally sighed. _ Long story. _ **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably end up writing a prequel explaining how Ecco got the nickname harlequin from her sister, but I'm not sure when I'll actually get to writing it since I still want to continue this one and a few other Jeremiah x Ecco fics. But who knows?


	7. Chapter 7

She was stuck inside all day and pretty much everyday since she was placed under police custody. She was getting a little board, but the soft voice in her head kept her company. Whether that was a good or bad thing was undecided. She hadn’t seen anyone is so long, except the cop which would come up to check on her every once and awhile. All the spare time to think didn’t exactly help after what had happened in Jeremiah’s bunker and what Emily had told her. There was no doubt in her mind that the blame shouldn’t fall on either her or Jeremiah, what bothered her most was how changed Emily was. Her little sister was unrecognizable beyond belief, lost in her own distortion of events. It brought a chill up her spine.

She decided to flick on the television, surfing through channels. Nothing was really on that she liked, so she got up to try and find a book she might have missed on her shelf. Halfway through the living area and to her table, the television had switched channels. The breaking news alert came on and she had the sinking feeling of déjà vu. She pleaded for it not to be what she expected.  ****  
** **

The world was mean to her and she tensed hearing Jerome’s voice. She turned to find Jerome speaking into the camera, grin shining up on the screen. Emily could be seen in the background, twirling around in a merry little way. He was on what looked like a stage which was set up outside. They must have hijacked a concert. Emily was in the background, seeming to whimsically dance to music which wasn’t playing. 

Her heart was beating out of her chest. The television might as well have been muted because his words were passing over her head. Not one of her muscles moved. She felt paralyzed all over again as if she were back in the labyrinth. Her breath was held, pressure building in her chest. 

She was being drawn further and further into the depths of her mind, until she had heard Jerome demanding his brother be brought to him. Jeremiah wasn’t there was he? He couldn’t have been. Much to her fear, her throat dried and she saw Jeremiah up on the screen, hesitant to walk towards the stage. Eventually, he did with encouragement from James Gordon. Ecco moved closer to the screen, time seeming to slow as Jeremiah approached. 

Then, there were gunshots and people screamed. Panic consumed her nerves in a chill which spread all throughout her body. Jerome had spoke into the microphone on stage, not seeming to be phased by the noise. 

Jerome’s voice scratched in a rasp from the display, “I had my guys take up the best vantage points last night, so they’ve been watching you little SWAT team all day.”

The police must have had some plan to stop Jerome and it seemed to fail spectacularly. 

Jerome called out to the two people he wanted in the first place, “Bruce! Brother dear! Get up on stage. Time to get this party really started.”

Emily motioned them to come forward. They both continued walking until they reached the stage and collars were wrapped around their necks. There had been explosives attached around the band at their throats. There were other inmates on the stage and they had shoved the two into chair, tying them down. Once they were strapped in Jerome took a seat between them and Emily stood behind hs chair. All she could do was watch.

Jerome spoke into the microphone, towards the crowd who were held captive at the event, “No parent will admit it, but everyone has their favorites.” 

Emily drummed fingernails against her pouting lips. The line was too true to her, after what she had told Ecco in the bunker.

He turned to Jeremiah in mockery, “Right brother?”

Jeremiah turned away, clearly annoyed with Jerome’s antics.

Jerome continues, “The one who cleans their room, does their homework, doesn’t try to kill everybody. Little mister perfect here,” he points to Jeremiah sitting next to him, “Yeah, he was that guy. He got adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools and the top college.”

Jeremiah brought a drastic roll to his eyes as Jerome droned on. 

“Meanwhile I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. I knew something that Mommy and Daddy had never known,” Jerome leaned in towards Jeremiah with a grin, “You’re as crazy as I am.”  

Jerome put down the microphone and moved in front of Jeremiah, telling the other something which couldn’t be heard. Jerome had pulled out a knife, waving it between himself and Jeremiah. Surprisingly, Jerome cut off Jeremiah's restraints, telling him something as he offered a shaky Jeremiah the knife. Ecco wasn’t sure what Jerome was doing as he leaned back, holding his arms out as if urging his twin to strike at him. Jeremiah peered down to knife. She wasn’t sure what he would do. Then she saw it in his eyes. His anger was rising to the surface.

Jeremiah snapped, standing up from his chair to lunge at his brother, but Jerome had seemed to expect the reaction, punching Jeremiah before he could strike. He fell to the floor of the stage and Jerome pointed at his twin, laughing. Emily followed suit, holding her stomach while bending over laughing. 

Suddenly, people started screaming and fleeing from the scene. She didn’t know what was happening, a worried anticipation in her chest to see what happens next, but the image faded from the screen and the reporters appeared on screen, “It appears we lost connection. Stay tuned for any more developments.”

Her thoughts scarily dropped and her instincts drove her to action, snapping out of the trance she was in. She stormed out the door, but someone had got in front of her, holding her back. It was one of the cops, waiting outside her door. They probably figured she’d want to go to the concert in the square where everything had been currently happening. 

Ecco struggled against the cop yelling, “Let me go!”

She stomped at his foot and he winced, allowing her to move past him. However, the other cop was not far behind and had gotten in the way. 

“Miss, everything is under control. Calm yourself. Going over there will do no good,” the other had tried convincing her.

She was stubborn and didn’t want to listen, but the hypnotic voice echoed. _Don’t worry. He’ll be alright. Let’s go back inside and wait. I know you’re tired._ A peace had washed over her and she, for some reason, wanted to listen. Her feet turned on herself, shuffling back inside and shutting the door behind her. Her lids her heavy as she laid across the couch, listening to the voices on the television as she gradually drifted to sleep.  

What she was brought to wasn’t a nightmare for once. Her was no blood in the grass or stains on the wall. There was a light breeze and soft lights. It was Haley’s Circus, the place she had grown up. The colors were kind to her eyes. The red of the tents had blared boldly and the yellow of the lights gave the night a peaceful dim. It was a nice escape for once. No more blood or fire, only tranquility. 

The wind shifted as if telling her to move. She obliged, feeling a tug forward as her small feet trudged over the grass. A blonde girl had sat at a bench at the end of the field, facing away from the city. Isabelle’s shorter blonde locks danced with the breeze. The girl sat looking down at something she played with in her hands. Isabelle couldn’t fully see what it was as she sat next to

the girl, who she recognized as her sister. 

Young Emily spoke softly with a small smile on her face, “Remember how much fun we had? How we always had each others backs?” her fingers outlined the item, “I missed that.”

Isabelle could only listen.

“Remember when you told me Jerome was trouble? I had heard you, but foolish as I was, I didn’t care. No matter what, he let me talk to him and he talked to me. All I wanted was to be listened to. No one listened to me.”

Isabelle muttered, “I did,” and when she looked up, child Emily was gone, replaced by the older Emily. Isabelle had grown as well and when she looked out, they were facing Gotham.

Emily chuckled warmly, “You did, but only in the beginning. You grew distant after Jeremiah left. Did you know that? I think you were the only one that didn’t notice.”

One corner of her lip lifted for a single second, blue eyes falling to the figure in her hand. She could see what it was now. It was a wooden jester figure with faded blue, red, and black paint. She recognized it from the shop. 

“Sometimes you have to laugh and smile at someone’s jokes to get through the day. Otherwise, you may fall at the seams,” she sets the figure aside, wiping at a tear down her cheek, “When you find I’m gone, I want you to smile. Don’t let anyone take your smile from you.”

Emily turned to her sister and the dream began to fade. Ecco wanted to stay, but the world was disappearing before her eyes. Emily began to blur, but before she did, she spoke in a fade, “I forgive you, my protective harlequin,” The last thing she saw was Emily’s kind smile. 

Her body jolted awake, tears in her eyes. The pleasant dream was a short nightmare in disguise. She wanted to break. Her heart ached. Her breaths were uneven and her eyes were wide, until she closed them to try and reach some calm. 

There was a buzz from her phone and she got up to see who it was texting her. She wiped her eyes and found that Jeremiah had wanted her to meet him in his bunker. She figured he was shaken up after what happened to him. It would have been emotionally draining to go through. 

She hoped the cops would let her leave this time. Maybe she’d be able to sneak by if they were outside. She took her keys and carefully opened the door, she peeked out her door, finding the cops weren’t there. Her steps were quiet down the stairs and as she walked outside. I was dark out, so she’d easily be able to avoid their line of sight, but unusually the the patrol car wasn’t parked outside. She shrugged off the circumstance, finding it worked in her favor. 

Her hands took a familiar key and started up her motorbike to a low hum, riding towards the woods. ****  
** **

___  
She pulls up to the location, running through the routine she had done without thought at this point. The cops weren’t outside his place either. Now she began to worry. Through the maze and down the hallways, she walked with a quicker pace, coming up to his office.  ****  
** **

She spoke into the device, her voice being the key. The door slid open noisily. In the silence, she heard a quaint chuckle from inside the office. She carefully maneuvered inside, finding Jeremiah kneeling down as he clutched his ginger locks. There was a grin on his face and there was a low chuckle coming from his throat. It was frightening.

She drew near with slow steps, reaching her hand out, “Jeremiah?”

He didn’t respond and he hadn’t acknowledged her presence either, as if she wasn’t there. Ecco spotted a jack-in-the-box on the floor. There was noise coming from it, a voice. It was Jerome’s voice. 

She listened to what it was saying, “Hello brother. Didn’t think you could get rid of me so easily, did you? You see, my days were numbered, but you could continue on for me. Be my ultimate revenge, so calm yourself. Don’t fight it. Breathe it in. This gas was a special mixture I had made, just for you. Something to finally set you free. It’s time to have some fun. Burn it down brother. Burn it all down.”

The voice in her head sang. _Oh how poetic._ She set the horrid thing aside and then began to approach the kneeling Jeremiah. She crouched down, trying to look at him better. His skin had turned a pale white and his lips were a rose red.  

She tried getting his attention, now facing him, “Jeremiah?”

There was still nothing. He continued chuckling, staring straight ahead as if she wasn’t right in front of him. She felt like had failed him. She was supposed to be there to protect him from Jerome and his brother had finally gotten the last laugh. 

“Jeremiah, if you can hear me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let him get to you. I shouldn’t have let him,” she wrapped him in her arms, holding him as he remained unresponsive and laughing.

Last thing she wanted was for him to be alone, so she sat there with him, promising not to leave. She stayed there, not aware of how much time was going by. Hours? Minutes? Seconds? She wasn’t sure anymore. Her eyes seemed to keep track of the time and she began to grow weary, not having slept that long at her apartment. Fighting to stay awake, her eyelids flickered up and down in a struggle. Eventually, sleep got the best of her and she let herself drift off.  
  
___   
Her consciousness returned and she woke to a dark room. She was lying with sheets over her. She recognized it as the bedsheets in the guest room, technically her room from all the times she used it. The lights were off, except for a single dim light on one end of the room. She was about to get up to turn on the lights, but a voice stopped her. 

“Don’t turn them on,” Jeremiah had suddenly said from where a chair would have been, but she couldn’t exactly see much. 

His voice was slightly different. There was a little more calculation and precision in his words, but they were also free-flowing in tone. Her head cants to where she suspected he was. Her eyes began to adjust some and she could vaguely outline his figure. She asked towards his direction, “Why not?”

“I don’t want you to see me.”

He must have been talking about the cosmetic changes she had seen when they had been in his office. 

“Jeremiah, I already saw,”

“Not all of it.”

“I’m not going to get scared if that’s what you’re suggesting,” she got up from the bed, maneuvering in the darkness and over to switch the lights on. 

She turns on only one switch, illuminating the room enough for her to see. His head was down, not looking at her. His skin was a much paler white than before and his hair had become black.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, in front of where he sat. He didn’t move.

“If you don’t look at me, I’ll leave right now,” she lightly threatened, without real intent in fulfilling the statement.

His head shot up, surprised.

She smirked, having tricked him, “Got you.”

He tried to suppress a smile, but he was failing to.

The most striking change was his eyes. Instead of green, they were now an unnatural silver with a few specks of tint green around the rims. His lips were also a deeper shade than what she noticed last night. 

Last night, she had so many questions and those questions were still on her mind. She had no idea what happened or how he was feeling now. He was in a laughing state last time she saw him and now she seemed fine, other than the outer change of appearance. 

He was avoiding her gaze, but she decided to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he still wasn’t looking at her, “No,” and he was being indecisive, “I don’t know honestly.”

“Well, what happened?” wanting to piece together events.

“I have to tell you something first,” tone low.

She nods, letting him know it’s okay to continue.

His mouth opens with sympathetic tone, “After Jerome took Bruce and I captive, we managed to get away after chaos started in the crowd. He was planning to drop a laughing gas over them, but it didn’t succeed. During that time, Jerome was shot by Gordon and he began to flee, with Emily not to far behind. He had ran up to a rooftop and ended up falling to his death...along with Emily.”

Ecco swallowed as something cracked inside, releasing a weight from her shoulders. While Emily wasn’t someone who she had embraced in her life, they were sisters and had gotten along for at least one part in her life. Her features fell and all she could think about was the dream. She remembered Emily’s words and her throat tightened. Tears were held back and a deep breath was taken to steady her mind. But then she remembered it was only a dream. The real Emily wouldn’t mention anything remotely similar. She mourned her sister a time ago. There was no point in doing so again.

Things were starting to make more sense. No wonder the cops weren’t outside their places anymore. They didn’t have to protect people from the dead.

She takes a few moments before mentioning, “What happened to you last night?”

She didn’t have to clarify what she was referring to. He already knew what she was talking about. His unnatural eyes shift, as if relaying his memory, “Some of it is a blur, but I remember getting home, texting you, then finding a present on my desk. I wasn’t sure how it got there, but there was a tag on it which was addressed as Wayne Enterprises. I was unsure what it was for, but I figured it was from Bruce Wayne. Under the wrapping, I found a box, which I regrettably opened. It sprayed me with a violet gas, which had altered my appearance.”

Hands twiddle in her lap. She admitted she had failed him and she wasn’t sure if he remembered any part of that. 

“Jerome wanted to drive me insane, but his gas didn’t work, other than cosmetic effects. I’m still sane. He failed,” Jeremiah stated will full confidence as if he was trying to prove something to her. His eyes dart from side to side, as if he was remembering more, and he regarded, “You didn’t fail me. You never had.”

So he had heard her. An acknowledging smile pulls up and feels more at ease to know he didn’t hold anything against her, but there was still part of her that didn’t chose to believe him even though he was telling the truth. **  
**

He returns the smile, “Now that you are awake, we have much to do my dear.” **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a lot going on.


	8. Chapter 8

It was soon to be Jeremiah’s big debut to outdo and recreate the world Jerome had made. He wanted to take away the ideals his brother had built and Ecco had gladly agreed to help. He told her the risks. What he had chosen to prove would require much work and necessary evils. Ecco would be willing to do anything which was required of her in order to prove Jeremiah’s newfound potential without having to be confined by the fear of his brother anymore. She felt the same without her sister. They had been a virus of madness, spreading unreasonable chaos in their wake. It was time for order to take place. 

Gotham was too chaotic, uncivilized, and in need of help desperately. What it needed was order to dispel the chaos. The police department didn’t provide enough order. A lot of the crime in Gotham had gone ignored for too long and no one was doing enough to save the city. She and Jeremiah had a plan to improve Gotham and make it into a controlled environment where people didn’t have to receive any injustice.

She rides through the graveyard, knowing Jerome’s cultists would be gathered at his grave to mourn their idol. Emily had served as one of their leaders, being she was founder of the cult, so no doubt they’d be mourning her as well. The two were laid to rest next to one another. They’d be given that last wish. 

Ecco spots the group exactly where expected. She donned a white mask and jester costume to conceal her identity and prevent anyone from connecting her actions back to Jeremiah if she was recognized by anyone. All eyes fall to her, hostile towards an unwelcome guest. They all wore some sort of clown makeup or outfit in homage to Jerome and Emily’s circus background.

One foot after the other, she stands before them, megaphone in hand. 

“This affair is invitation only,” informs the cultist with spiked hair, who stands in the middle as a leader of sorts.

Her chin sways downwards and her shoulders lift in a shrug, the bells at each end of her black jester hat jingling. 

The cultists darkly chuckle, holding their lit torches.

“Well that’s alright,” the same cultists twirls the knife he holds, “You’re welcome to stay, but you won’t be leaving,” hostile intent in his words.

They throw the knife at her, but she blocks it easily in time with the megaphone she holds. As the knife clatters to the grass, the megaphone blares a horn at the push of a button and they all move to cover their ears. Having got their attention, she pulls out a tape from her pocket, holding it it to the microphone to play. She presses the button and Jerome’s voice comes through. In truth, the voice belonged to Jeremiah, acting as Jerome to trick the cultists into doing his work.

The static plays, “Why so sad bozos? Did you think they could get rid of me so easily? Well, okay. So they did. I’m dead, but let’s not dwell on negatives. I have one last party to throw. First on the to-do list, dig me up,” They don’t move, hesitant to the request, but the voice yells out again, cheerfully, “Dig me up!”

They instantly turn to Jerome’s grave, scratching and scraping at the dirt. They were extremely devoted to the maniac. She saw why Jeremiah would expect them not to remain on his side for long. They were already a part of Jeremiah’s followers, but they just didn’t know it yet. They were rough around the edges, but they could be used at least for some amount of time before they start to become disloyal.

The first phase had begun and it was time to set the next one up. The one who seemed to be their leader, or at least someone who they would listen to, seemed to be a reasonable choice. She needed one of the members to be aware of the underlying plan from a level of general understanding. Details, of course, would be shared, but it was a specific job to ensure Jeremiah was able to execute his part.

Her movements are stiff, yet precise as she walked to the cultist with spiked hair. She motioned him to follow her, out of sight of the others. She reaches to remove her mask, so she would be able to talk. 

“I assume you are the shock collar of this group?” rising the idea to his attention.

“I sure am, but who are you? Did you know Jerome or Emily well?” He voices with a bit of dangerous curiosity.

“Careful what you ask. The wrong question will bring unwanted responses,” intimidating him a little, not bothering to answer, “But you may call me Ecco.”

“Nice to meet you Ecco. Hey, sorry I threw that knife at you,” he says with worry and uncertainty, “Uh...you didn’t bring me back here to kill me, right?” 

“No. I’m here to give you strict orders. You are not allowed to share them with anyone else. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to disrespect Jerome by defying his order, right?” she lies.

He shakes his head like an obedient child, afraid to say anything.

Her voice is both calm and commanding, yet to the point, “Good. This morning, I want you and the others to overrun the GCPD, celebrating Jerome Valeska in a glorious wake to honor his memory. Keep them occupied as long as you can. During that time, make sure you find Captain Gordon and get his attention. Don’t kill him, but you need to get captured. Once you are, bait him into wanting to find Jeremiah and Bruce Wayne. Remember those names. Your knowledge of your part in this stays secret.” She steps forward slight as means to intimidate, “If you should unfortunately reveal it, there will be consequences,” her head tilts, “Any questions?”

“Nope. We’re all good here,” he holds his hands up in defense.

“Good. Now finish digging up Jerome and I’ll handle the rest,” she finished, donning her mask once again.

When she’s done here and the sun rises, she’ll return to Jeremiah’s bunker to await James Gordon, who should be drawn to the bunker if all cards are played right.

___  
Everything had run accordingly to her side of the plan and she hoped Jeremiah was having the same luck at the graveyard with Bruce. At the current time, Jeremiah should be revealing to Bruce and Jerome’s former cultists, the true face behind the hair dye, contacts, and makeup which had been applied to hide his unusual appearance. 

James had arrived with perfect timing, the cultist having done what was asked of him, and he entered the maze which was left unlocked. He would expectantly try going to Jeremiah’s office as lights had created a path to the room, all other hallways shut off until Ecco would decide to activate them.

Inside the office a video was let to play for the police captain, explaining what Jeremiah called, “The twist at the end,” which revealed the mastermind behind what had conspired at the GCPD and, soon, the bunker.

To ensure Gordon stayed to watch the clip and in the maze, she stood by and held him at gunpoint. The goal was to kill Captain Gordon, but not by gun. He would die in another manner. One more explosive, so many Gothamites would be able to see.

With Bruce’s help, the genius engineer had designed a bomb in disguise of a prototype generator. It’s detonation would mark the death of James Gordon and serve as proof to Gotham that Jeremiah had done something his brother never could. That way, no one would be able to compare him to Jerome.

The man in front of her stilled at the blunt metal end was pressed into his temple, not moving an inch as the video continued to play. Ecco’s thoughts were elsewhere than the video, remaining focused as she kept a close eye. However, she was thrown off guard as she heard choking coming from the screen. She wasn’t sure if it had been intentionally placed as part of the video and she turned her head to screen, which had been a mistake on her part. 

Gordon made opportunity out of the short distraction, swiping the gun from her hand to send it clattering to the floor. The two had engaged in a fight as they swung and kicked at one another. He had managed to throw her against one of the tables, but she quickly recovered, grabbing scissors. She swung the makeshift blade, slicking through air, unable to strike the other as they stepped out of the way in time. The mask she wore was giving her disadvantage, narrowing her vision to a select view. The disadvantage proved to get the best of her, unable to react fast enough to the fist which swung in from her blind spot. She was knocked unconscious, laying at the slate concrete.   
___  
When she awoke not long after, she immediately shot up from the floor, knowing the place was about to blow any minute. The bomb ran on a timer and she did not want to get caught underground when the explosion would decimate the entire maze. 

James was still there, much to her luck, so she shut the door behind her, locking it before quickly making her escape. She ran swiftly past corners and turns, finally reaching outside. Her motorbike was parked right next to where she had first came in, so she hurriedly hopped in the seat, driving away as fast as she could. 

A sigh of relief left her lips as soon as she was safe from the blast radius. All she had to worry about now was meeting Jeremiah at Wayne Enterprises. The distance between herself and the labyrinth grew by the second, but when the explosion had went off with a flame, she jolted a little, but then smiled having known everyone would be able to see what brought the downfall of Gotham’s police captain.

Entering more of the populated city, she zooms down the streets to reach Wayne Enterprises. Her vehicle reaches a stop and she steps down from the seat, finding Jeremiah waiting at one of the back entrances which would get them inside. Jeremiah was already welcomed in the building to work on the generator project funded by Bruce, but his new appearance would only raise questions and suspicions. 

He greets her, “You ready?”

She nods, “Only if you are.”

“Wonderful dear,” he makes move to the door, entering with a whisper, “Remember, stand right behind me so they don’t see you.”

The halls are generally empty as they sneak their way through. Jeremiah has been here more than a few times, so he knew the place fairly well and where he was going. 

They reach double door which opened to a dim section. There were voices in the area, busy conversing with one other to notice Jeremiah and Ecco walk closer. He stood still with minimal movement as she was hidden behind his figure. 

“Good evening gentlemen,” he called to the guards from a shadowy end. 

The guards ceased their conversation, recognizing the voice, “Hey there Mister Valeska. You alone or you got Mister Wayne with you?”

Ecco clutched her pistol in one hand, waiting for her queue.

Jeremiah’s voice changed slightly, more sophistication and emphasis in his words as he walked forward, “No Mister Wayne,” he stopped not fully in the light, “But I’m not alone.”

The guards were confused, trying to catch glimpse of him in the light. Before they knew what was happening, Jeremiah stepped to the side and revealed Ecco, who quickly aimed her weapon at the two, shooting without hesitation. Jeremiah had placed his hand behind her to urge her forward soon after she killed the guards. They were first kills. She would have thought there would be some sort of suppressive weight placed upon her, but it felt quite the opposite. It felt surprisingly good.

They both had reached down, tugging the access key cards from it’s clip. She brings the card up to swipe it into the reader, watching him do the same as it required both cards to be imputed simultaneously.

The door gave an authorized beep, sliding open. She let him enter first, following in after. Her jaw dropped in awe when she saw the array. There were so many of the generators lined in place. There would certainly be enough to topple Gotham.

“Look at these. The gifts of true friendship,” he started walking to the display, “Let’s load them on the trucks. It’s time to give Gotham City it’s new face.”

She couldn’t help the smile which pulled at the corners of her lips. Gotham can become what it needs to be when they’re finally done with it.


	9. Chapter 9

Her leg was bouncing anxiously, having been stuck in the darkness of the hideout he ordered her to stay in while his plan to blow the city was in motion. She had protested the idea initially, wanting to help him in his excursion. However, he had insisted she stay behind. He had said if anything had gone wrong, he didn’t want her in the middle of it, potentially getting caught in the crossfire and rubble. She could have argued the same for him, but the troubled look on his face was enough for her to agree. 

With a few bumps here and there, Jeremiah was able to succeed in an improvised plan, seeing had the former had failed by the hands of the not-so-dead James Gordon. The weight of guilt had fallen on her at the note of her failure to kill Gordon. Watching the news development, she found he had isolated Gotham from the rest of world around it. The bridges connecting the city had been destroyed and driven below into the water to sink. The lights had gone out throughout the entire city meanwhile, which was why she sat in the chilling blackness. 

Barely able to maneuver the room in the dark, she decided it would be find some flashlights or candles hidden somewhere in the place. There were faint outlines of the furniture from which her eyes could discern, but it must not have been identifiable enough, seeing as she almost tripped or bumped into corners as she moved in search of a light source.  

Hands rummaged through drawers, but nothing had been what she was looking for, except a few matches. With no luck in finding a flashlight, she could have swore she spotted a few candles somewhere before. Her blind shuffling moved her along, not running into as many objects as before, a little more careful with where she walked. Her search continued until she bumped into a small table, rocking the light piece of furniture off it’s balance. She heard a few meager thumps hit the floorboards while a frustrated sigh was let out her breath. Her feet shuffled a little more forward to where she estimated the objects would have fallen and crouched down to run her hands along the smooth wood. Her hand brushed an object, reaching over the unknown item to find her fingers had found a candle, much to her delight. 

Her finger fiddled with the matches found in the drawers a few minutes earlier, doing the best one could to light a match in the dark. The stick sparked into a flame, a warm orange light providing the needed visual. Touching the fire to the candle, the wick caught aflame. 

Standing with more ease, she found a couple more candles which had rolled father away. She took those with her back to the spacious living room, lighting them at a table to sit atop. 

About to lay at the couch, a knocking at the door caused her to snap in attention of the noise. Walking over, she peeked through the other side of the door, finding Jeremiah holding his shoulder. He had been injured.  _ He’s not looking too good. I’d hurry if I were you. _

She pulled open the door in a hurry, quickly reaching to wrap her arms around his torso and assist him inside. She carefully sat him at the couch as she grabbed one of the candles to lead her to where the medical supplies were. He’d been shot it seemed. Ecco wasn’t sure if the bullet was still inside, rushing before she could ask, so she took everything she may possibly need. 

Everything fell in a heap on the couch. His head hung back with uneven breathing, pain getting to him. Her hand reaches gently to his shoulder, trying to examine the injury, but it was no use with the fabric obscuring her view. She moves to remove his suit jacket, as he grimaces with a hiss of pain and she tosses jacket to the side, out of her way after having managed to get it off. Blood drenched the area around his shoulder, soaking his shirt. She hoped the wound wasn’t infected yet. She removed the last layer and was now able to examine his injury with clarity. The bullet was still inside.

She grabs the tweezers, looking to him before continuing. He watches her and gives a brisk nod for her to continue. She holds his shoulder still, knowing he’ll be fidgety as the amateur operation takes place. He groaned at the harsh metal entering the fresh wound, but Ecco kept her focus on the task. His lips closed tightly together, eyes shut. She felt the bullet slip a few times, difficult to reach, but then she finally got it in the metallic hold and she pulled it out steadily. Warm crimson flowed out and she grabbed a cloth to hold it down and slow the bleeding with little success. She told him press down on his wound as she moved to the kitchen, filling a bowl with water and grabbing another cloth. Returning with the water, she dipped the cloth in to soak it and clean the wound along with any blood. There was still a lot of the red flowing, so she quickly finished with disinfecting the vulnerable flesh. He didn’t wince at the sight of a needle as he had once used to. The thread was in place and she began making steady work at his shoulder. 

Once done, she overlaid a bandage atop the area and let him lay down. He was already falling into sleep, but she knew he’d be alright. He always seemed to bounce back from the worst of situations.

She sorted through a closet, finding a blanket among one of the shelves. He was already asleep when she came back to the living room and lay the blanket over him. He’ll need his rest before they were to carve out their territory of Gotham and begin the city’s rebirth.

She sat at a cushioned chair across from him, failing at keeping her eyes open. Sleep overtook her, head falling to the side as her lids shut.

___

Her body stirred in place as natural light came into the window, disturbing her eyes to open. Her arms reached out in a stretch to get herself awake. She rubbed her eyes and found Jeremiah awake as well. She wonders if he had gotten enough sleep.

He was looking at the ceiling, until she asked him, “How are you feeling?”

“Achy, but better,” he met her eyes, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” offering a warm nod.

Now that he was aware and awake, she wanted to get something off her chest. 

Her mouth opened to say what she wanted, with a bit of wavering qualm, “Jeremiah, can I tell you something?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” studying her as he waits for a response..

Her gaze drifts to the still lit candle instead of Jeremiah, while she struggled to speak, “I don’t know what you need of me sometimes,” her head tilts downward, “I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be. Does that make me a failure?”

His eyes soak in the other before him, “You don’t need to be anything but yourself, dear. Not knowing doesn’t make you a failure”

“Then how am I supposed to know who I am?” It was a loaded question. With the voice in her head, she was confusing her thoughts with what the soft whisper within herself was saying. After she had thrown herself into a new life of crime, it was difficult adjusting. Everything had changed and had become unknown, uncertain of what may happen next. Jeremiah had also been a concern of hers. Despite his instance he hadn’t changed in exception to his appearance, she was starting to question his behavior. He was becoming someone different from the engineer she came to know. People changed, but not so drastically that they begin to contradict the obvious truths. Jeremiah had been affected by his brother’s gas. Exactly how it had affected him was up in question. Bring up the topic would certainly not be wise. He hated being called insane or any insinuation he had been taken by his brother’s chaotic madness. 

She felt terrible for having reached the conclusion, being as she couldn’t be defined as sane either, but it was worrisome he had been denying whatever change had been brought upon him. All she wanted was to know he wasn’t trying to bottle inside any denial because holding it inside would only take a toll on himself. 

His unnatural eyes drag elsewhere, “When you find strength and flaw in yourself and when you accept both, you’ll find who you are. I have no doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

A blonde strand falls over her face and she reaches to tuck the stray behind her ear, “Thanks J. I needed to hear that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for now, but I'm planning on adding more for season 5. It may diverge from canon or I may kept aspects of the canon in my writing for season 5. I'm not sure yet.


End file.
